There's No Geist Like The Zeitgeist.

When The War (wwi) Finally Ended It Was Necessary For Both Sides To Maintain, Indeed Even To Inflate, The Myth Of Sacrifice So That The Whole Affair Would Not Be Seen For What It Was: A Meaningless Waste Of Millions Of Lives. Logically, If The Flower Of Youth Had Been Cut Down In Flanders, The Survivors Were Not The Flower: The Dead Were Superior To The Traumatized Living. In This Way, The Virtual Destruction Of A Generation Further Increased The Distance Between The Old And The Young, Between The Official And The Unofficial.

Most Of The Time They Buy What Other People Buy. They Move In Great Schools, Like Bluefish, All Identical. There Is Safety In Numbers. If One Wants Schnabel, They All Want Schnabel, If One Buys A Keith Haring, Two Hundred Keith Harings Will Be Sold.

It Is An Oldish Question, But Not Perhaps A Very Interesting One, Whether Cooking Is An Art Or Not.

Drawing Never Dies, It Holds On By The Skin Of Its Teeth, Because The Hunger It Satisfies – The Desire For An Active, Investigative, Manually Vivid Relation With The Things We See And Yearn To Know About – Is Apparently Immortal.

Landscape Is To American Painting What Sex And Psychoanalysis Are To The American Novel.